Chapter 1: Mission Impossible for Fox Spirit

I sneak enter Christ Redeemer Monastery—na there I jam one monk wey butterfly poison dey finish.

The moon that night be like cold yam: round, stubborn, heavy for sky, just dey shine anyhow like NEPA bulb wey refuse off. The monastery compound quiet sotey you fit hear broom sweep for another compound. But as I dey move like breeze, na so my luck just jam wahala. Na so I tell myself: which kain gbege be this? Person no fit run small mission again for Naija without story!

That butterfly poison na wicked thing. That night, the monk press me for bed, and as the fever hold am, he break every church rule wey he don swear say he no go break.

E get some things for this world wey you no dey prepare for. Who go think say na monk go dey craze pass area boy if fever hold am? If to say I sabi, I for dey my dey.

After all the wahala finish, I hold my fox tail, sharply carry leg comot.

Na sharp sharp move o, before dem ring bell for midnight prayer and monks rush come with holy water. I just dey whisper, "Baba God, abeg, carry my wahala far." Tail tucked, wrapper for armpit, na so I waka commot like thief wey collect change for market.

When we jam again, na him lead all the Vigilance Division come surround me. As e pain me, I just burst out for everybody front:

"You this stubborn bald monk! You sleep with me finish, you no wan take responsibility—still dey wear your cassock dey form holy! Oya na, but I no thief chicken or kill anybody, so why you dey arrest me?"

You for see as dem Vigilance people dey look one another, some dey shift leg, some dey try hide smile. Even air get tension. Na Naija—everybody sabi wahala when e show face.